literature

Hurt Like You Dance

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Literature Text

                      Woman
           you wear my glance.
       We're young and it's dark,
   There's fresh bone in your eyes;
       What did you kill tonight?
well, I can guess from your cigarette.
                  But my god,
        you hurt like you dance:
                    with this
                       slow
                   n a k e d
                      throb.
Fucking with magnetic poetry creates ideas.
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